Windy Guy

It was a chilly evening in Manhattan. The calendar said it was the second night of spring, but it felt like the beginning of winter all over again. He was sitting on the bench outside the main library, with his chin on his chest. Sleep protected him. People walked by; someone glanced at him, others didn’t. A French tourist looked at the man and almost laughed. Someone observing him gave him a dirty look, silent movie style. A while later, a group of Italians went past the man. One of them turned back, and took a white bag out of his knapsack. He walked to the bench and placed the bag next to the man.


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2 Responses to “Windy Guy”

  1. Alex Says:

    Beautiful piece of writing

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